The Human Trap
by Solanio
Summary: Daria awakens one day in a body not her own.
1. The Awakening

_The theme is angels as a variant in the World of Darkness. This and similar stories of mine present angels more as mythological beings, and their relationship to Man, God, demons, and each other in a much more dark and cynical perspective than is typical for the subject. Thus the treatment is more in keeping with modern gothic themes, and has something in common with books like Good Omens, films like the Prophecy, and games like In Nomine. Therefore it might not be suitable or enjoyable for those with strong convictions and beliefs about angels. - This story is part of an ongoing chronicle at my web site (see profile) using a shared character. If you would like to contribute to this chronicle, please stop by. Otherwise, any helpful hints and critques are most appreciated. - Cheers, Sol._

"Wake up! You're late!"

There was a bright light, warm and powerful. There was music. The seraph's eyes opened. Daria was awake.

_Six o'clock already I was just in the middle of a dream  
I was kissin' Valentino by a crystal blue Italian stream_

Daria sat up. Who was Valentino?

"Hurry up, darling. You're going to be late."

_But I can't be late 'cause then I guess I just won't get paid_

Daria watched the man dressing. His padded overly hairy back was in an almost comical contrast to his skinny balding head. She caught sight of his face in the mirror. He was looking at her, smiling. He looked familiar, but she could not give him a name. His face was shadowed from unshaven hair. He had pink skin and hazel eyes.

Daria tried to recollect her last thought. Her hands felt heavy, immobile, swallowed in softness. She looked at them and realized they were only tucked under sheets and blankets. She was in a bed, a human bed.

Startled, she looked back at the dressing man. In his reflection, he puckered his lips and extended them. Then he quickly closed and opened one eye, looking at her all the time with the other while he tied a narrow coloured cloth around his neck.

Now that she had a stomach, she noticed that it was uneasy. Where had she been? What had she done?

_These are the days when you wish your bed was already made._

Rather than divine radiance, the light was seen as not so bright, and rather weak in fact. It shone through an iced Winter window. The song droned on from somewhere, but Daria ignored it, or tried to. It too seemed vaguely familiar.

_It's just another manic Monday, oh-woe..._

"You'd better get out of bed. I'll make Charlotte her breakfast. You just get a move on, Sweetie. I'll take care of it."

Daria gave no response. She just sat there, trying to remember a Charlotte. But when he started to walk out of the room, she called after him.

"Man, tell me, when is it?"

The man glanced at a glass on his wrist. "Quarter after. You've got plenty of time. You get a shower. I'll get Charlotte and breakfast."

"No wait," she called after him. "I mean, what year is it?"

* * *

Daria stared at the thing eating its breakfast. The Man had made it crisped bread spread with butter and syrupy fruit lumps. The child, for its part, stared right back at her.

"Mommy, what's the matter?"

"Mommy's not feeling well, baby. Just leave her alone, and get ready for school, OK? Daddy's going to drive you today."

Mother? By Dominic, not only had she, Daresiel, Eloha of Courtrooms, not awakened on time, she had mated with a human and produced the thing before her. The chances were still in her favor since it was pre-Awakening, but then there was always a chance. What if it was a...? Daria breathed in, trying to quiet her rapid human heart.

The manchild smiled at her father and nodded. She gave Daria an odd look, as if trying to figure out what sort of illness her mother had. She shook her head when her father offered her some more toast. Charlotte got up and walked over to Daria. Apparently she was expecting something.

Up closer to the thing, Daria just stared. The face was not unpleasant. Charlotte, for her part, scowled back. She looked into Daria's eyes, then she made a curling motion with one of her fingers. She did it again, and again. Fascinated, Daria drew down to take a closer look, trying to count how many fingers there were. Nephilim usually had at least six or seven. That's when the manchild grabbed her around the neck. Its brown hair was soft, tied back with a lime green plastic clip. Daria's cheek was touching the child's head.

"Oh, that's right. Give your mommy a good hug. She needs a hug. It will make her feel better," the man advised his progeny.

"Will it?"

The father nodded.

The manchild thing grasped Daria again, even tighter. It was a strange feeling, a child's arms wrapped around her neck, its small breath warm against the seraph's neck. So this was what it is like to have a corporeal body, Daria thought.

Before the child could pull away, Daria grabbed her and felt her back. The child, thinking that Daria was hugging back, squeezed. Daria could not find any evidence of stubby protrusions on the shoulders, but the Charlotte thing pulled away before Daria could finish her examination.

Charlotte gave Daria a quizzical look as if trying to puzzle out exactly what was going on.

"You look different, Mommy. You have shiny eyes."

"That's because your daddy kept poor Mommy up all night." The man closed one of his eyes when he looked at Daria. That was a wink, she realized. Her human memory was coming back to her, slowly. She had heard that sometimes the Awakening submerged the human self for a time. She felt so lost and uncertain without her human experiences.

The man pressed his lips to her cheek. Then he whispered in her ear, "I called your office. I told Karen you couldn't make it." He stood up. "And before you ask, Jane is taking care of your briefs." He smiled, as if pleased with himself. He bent down again. "Sorry, Sweetie. Last time I keep you up like that on a work night. Was I a tiger, or what?"

His question didn't make sense. No, it was an expression. He was bragging about his sexual prowess. Daria sighed, and startled herself, as she felt her lungs expand. She had not noticed them before, but now that she had, breathing became a fascinating exercise.

Daria had established she was about ten years overdue. She should have been in California by now. Instead, due to some unforseen factor, she had awakened later than she should have. Now, she had a family. She had ties, human ties admittedly, but ties nonetheless. This shell of hers, Darlene the man called it, Darlene was a mother, a wife. Her absence would leave a hole, a hollow echo that would reverberate in the Symphony, causing unforseen, unwanted changes. Daria had some hard decisions to make.

_Song lyrics; Manic Monday, by Christopher_

**story by Solanio**


	2. Bridge Talk

Darlene Marchand lit a candle. It was an empty gesture. She had no true faith to give, being instead a corporeal manifestation of faith. Darlene, her true name being Daresiel, was an eloha, a seraph to be specific. Humans called her kind angels, which only showed their ignorance. There were many types of elohim, angels being only the most common. And being a seraph, not an angel, Daresiel was of the highest station in celestial terms, which made it all the more embarrassing to be in the situation she now found herself in. 

Rochel, who really was an angel, walked into the church, his footsteps sounding slightly like music. He stood alongside her and also lit a candle. The sad thing was, theirs were the only candles lit that afternoon. The church was not exactly a wellspring of faith for Heaven. Daresiel examined the angel. He was good at appearing human. His melody blended into the Symphony around him. Here in the church, he had the freedom to unmasque himself a bit. Still, his easy bearing, his warm smile of white teeth framed by a trim brown beard, totally wasted and unappreciated by Daresiel, all spoke of someone who had gone native. He was as comfortable in his vessel as a real human might have been. And his clothes seemed to ride better on him than Darlene's did on Daresiel.

"Kind of meagre offerings, wouldn't you say?"

Daresiel looked behind them. There was only one human, snoring in the pews. But the state of faith, or lack thereof, in Brooklyn, was not her utmost concern. She had more pressing matters to attend to.

"Have you been briefed on..?" Daresiel watched as Rochel walked back and exited the church. He came back a moment later, and stood alongside Daresiel.

"Where did you just go?"

"Hmm?" Rochel brushed his overcoat, flicking off a piece of lint. "Just to see if there was anyone outside. This place could use a bit more faith. Thought I'd round up some converts."

The manners of these earthbound elohim did not impress Daresiel.

"This is your first time down here?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I'd practice your smile. Humans smile a lot, especially when they meet friends. Also, try to ease up a bit. You're pretty stiff."

This was too much. "Roch-el," she said, using formal pronunciation, "I don't know what you're used to down here, but where I come from, angels know their place, especially when being addressed by their superiors."

The angel did not speak at first. He stared at the candles they had lit. But instead of offering his apology, he laughed. Seeing the look on her face, he laughed some more. When he had done laughing, he wiped an actual tear from his eye and looked at her, trying badly to smooth his mouth into a firm line.

"Look, when I first came down here, I was the same as you, all full of fire and brimstone, with a huge hair up my crack. A word of advice, this isn't Heaven. Earth has its own rules. You may be a seraph, but you're part of the Daemon order now. That means, earthside, you're no higher than any elohim in the ranks. And you better not try that seraphim rank crap on the archons. Down here, they rule."

"Of course," Daresiel uncomfortably agreed. The convoluted hierarchy of Heaven meant that an eloha might be archangel in one context, and servant in another. She had not considered this, but she was able to accept it.

"How long have you..?" Daresiel started to ask.

"Six centuries."

"That's not long."

"Not up there, maybe. Down here, time takes on a whole new meaning. You'll see."

Rochel offered her a stick of gum. Daresiel shook her head. Rochel took one and started talking while he chewed. Daresiel watched him with fascination.

"How are your human memories? Coming back alright?"

"Mostly. There's still a few areas that I'm unclear on. The man, he expects me to cook. The smell of human food is sickening."

"Some things from your human self, you won't recover. What's your human name?"

"Darlene Evelyn Marchand."

"Right. You're not Darlene anymore. Once you awakened, your eloha nature popped her right out. She's coming back, in bits and pieces, and your mind is going to try and marry the two together, what you were before being born, and the life you lived before the Awakening."

"Seems a lot of fuss."

"Hey, Sister, you're a celestial. Without a skinsuit, every vibration of your being would cry out to the Enemy, come and get me. And you'd create dischord with every step. Times have changed. The Symphony is manifest, no longer so malleable as in the Beginning."

"Yes, I remember. I was told all this before I was born human."

"Then remember, you're not the old Daresiel either. Give it a century or two, and Darlene will start to fade. But she'll never be totally gone. That life you lived, you'll carry some part of it with you, even when you're back topside. If you die down here, unless they catch you on the wing, you'll likely reform back in Heaven. Then, if you have the stomach for it, you can be reincarnated into another available body, get born human again. And then you'll go through the process again, and who you are will change again, adding another life, another layer into what you are. Try not to die too much. If your corporeal self dies, pray that you're retired so you don't have to come back. Too much of this round-trip business, it can make you schizo."

Daria nodded. "A remnant."

"Right." Rochel looked toward the empty altar up front. He pulled up his collar, just like a human ready to brave the cold outside. "I guess that about covers it. You decide what to do about your human family?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. What happens if I leave the man and his child?"

"Child?"

"She's not a nephilim," Daria assured him. "She was born before my Awakening. I mean, the odds are extreme that she would be. I'm sure none of my unawakened celestial nature seeped into her. I'm watching her though."

He nodded. "Well, families break up every day down here. Mothers abandon their children. I don't think it will be a big deal."

"Won't it cause dischord in the Symphony?"

Rochel shrugged. "Not really. Your skinsuit gives you some immunity. You can act like a human, to a degree. Don't kill them if you can avoid it. Don't cause something to happen that causes their death, at least too often. Other little tragedies, well, sometimes you can't avoid them."

"Do you know why I awoke late?" Daria bowed her head, pretending to pray. She looked up the crucifix above the candles. The eyes flickered, their whites playing of the candlelight, making Jesus look rather insane.

"Well, the Awakening is usually triggered by some physical or mental event. It's different for everyone. With me, it was puberty. And it can be a lot more gradual, not all at once like yours. You're lucky you awoke at all. Some first-timers, they have to skip a few incarnations before they wake up. They end up back in Heaven before they know it, their memories crammed full of lives they never thought to live. If we were able to trace an incarnation, we might have found a way to force the Awakening. But there would be a drawback. Unawakened, you might as well be human for all we care. That," he indicated the snoring penitent behind them, "might be the Throne of the Morning, come to banish darkness from the skies forever."

Rochel clapped his hands. The walls inside the near empty church reverberated like thunder. The snoring man jumped into consciousness . He looked around, looked at them both, rubbed his nose and started to leave.

Continuing his point, "But we would never know it unless he wakes up for real. But if we can't detect the unawakened, neither can the Enemy. The nascent elohim are safe while they're most vulnerable in this human state."

Daria nodded. "Then I will remain with my family."

Rochel raised an eyebrow. "Don't you serve Dominic?"

"Yes."

"His reputation isn't one of tolerance. Are you sure this is wise? Being late a decade isn't going to matter much. Being late half a century, someone like Dominic might take notice."

"The man has a disease. He's dying from poisoned blood that he got in a hospital. I don't think he'll last more than ten more years. Waiting a few years won't matter to my mission."

"You could cure him," Rochel told her.

"Is that allowed?" Daria was suspicious. This did not sound orthodox.

"Not if you're strict about interpretation. But it has been done."

Daria decided Rochel was either foolish or daring to be telling this to a servitor of Justice.

"No, I don't want to interfere. If I were to save him, I would then have to leave him anyway, or I would have to be later than I can allow myself, waiting for him to die of other causes. This way, I cause less disturbance in the Symphony, and can still arrive in California to deal with the mess out there in good time."

"So, you're just going to let him die then?"

"Yes. I'll let nature take its course."

"Good luck. If the part of you that's Darlene loves this man, it's not going to be so easy. And if he were alive, he could care for the child. Darlene would probably not want to leave her child to strangers."

"She'll be an adult. Duty is clear. I'm not going to let human emotions cloud my judgement."

Rochel nodded. "I'll let the Archon of Brooklyn know your decision."

"Tell me, why am I meeting the Archon?"

"It's customary for all elohim to present themselves to the local head honcho. However, in your case, I get the distinct impression she wants to talk to you about something. Once more, here archons rule. Remember that, and you'll stay out of trouble. If they say fly, just ask how high."

He touched his hand to his head in salute and walked toward the exit. Daria followed closely and then headed for her bus stop. Outside, the sky was a bright blue. Sunlight reflected off of clean patches on otherwise dirty grey snow piled high on the sidewalk. On the busy road, afternoon traffic passed by slowly, drivers wary of ice. Daria heard Rochel sing, a sound unintelligible to humans around them. The light, the melting snow, ice, and the timing of several cars all coincided to culminate in a city transit bus crashing and crushing half a dozen smaller passenger cars as it rolled over them. The bus then settled upside down and, as onlookers screamed, burst into flame.

Daria walked back to Rochel. "You did that," she accused him. "Why? You said we are not to kill or cause to kill humans when possible."

"Do you sense any dischord?"

Daria focused on the Symphony. There's was a tinny quality to it, like strings plucked when stretched too taught. But there was no dischord, certainly nothing compared to what should have occurred by this elohite interference. Why?

Seeing Daria's puzzled look, he decided to explain. "I made sure events conspired so that no one was hurt."

Daria looked. Humans were piling out of the bus, just in time to avoid the explosion. Others were pulling themselves and each other out of the crushed cars. Everyone was amazed that no one seemed seriously injured.

"It's a miracle!" she heard one man exclaim. "I thought I was a goner."

Though the odds were incredible, impossible perhaps, for what was next to happen to have occured, sunlight reflected off melting snow, forming crystals, prisms of ice that caught the light in such a way as to send shafts of brilliance to the door of the church, just as bells tolled three. People looked up seeing the church as if for the first time, bathed in light, the sound of bells clean and clear in the crisp air. Several started toward it, climbing the steps to offer their thanks for this _miraculous_ event.

Daria could soon sense the emanations of strong emotional faith pouring out of the church, heading to Heaven. She looked at the angel. He just smiled and shrugged. Whistling, he put his hands in his pockets and walked off.

"Don't forget. Be at the Brooklyn Bridge in one hour," he called back to her.

* * *

You're late.

Rochel was on the walkway, near to a tear in the fence that screened pedestrians from the road. Up above them, perching on the cables and spans of the bridge, elohim sat, watching them, watching the traffic on and underneath the bridge, scanning the skies. Strangely, no one seemed to take note of these figures, perching like birds, above them. It made the scene somewhat surreal and unearthly.

Sorry. After you wrecked my bus, I couldn't get a cab. And then there was the traffic. Even without the accident, it's terrible this time of day. How did you get here so fast?

Rochel looked at her. His expression was one of amusement. He nodded to a barge passing underneath the bridge.

"In my first days, it was ships. They were always too expensive, not available, or there were storms or pirates." He looked at her. "Of course, imagine my chagrin when I finally realized I didn't need a ship."

Rochel scanned the passersby for a moment. Daria followed his gaze, but when she looked back, she was surprised to see that he had transformed himself into his divine form.

"You coming?" He took off, his wings beating slowly, scenting the air with perfume with each beat. He just hovered above her.

"Are you mad! In front of the humans?"

Daria looked around. No one seemed to take notice; no one except a small child who pointed up to his parent, "Daddy! Look!"

The boy's father looked up to where his son was pointing. "Oh, I see. Yes, what a pretty bird."

The boy regarded his father with surprise, shaking his head. He looked up, noticing all the angels kneeling above him. Looking back at Rochel, he smiled. Rochel smiled and waved back. The boy, who seemed no more than four years old, took no notice of Daria.

"They can't really see us unless you want them to. Only the little ones, and sometimes the elderly or dying too, just before they cross over. But children like that boy will soon forget that he ever saw an angel, except in some forgotten corner of his mind."

He swooped down. "Choose your moment and come. The Archon is waiting for you."

Of course, Daria realized. She had been told all this, but her memories were still fractured. Human and eloha, everything was mixed up and her mind hadn't sorted it all through yet. She was a Daemon eloha now. In mark of this service, she too could assume the winged form of messengers. She had no need to take her true, divine, form, which might have been dangerous to any humans nearby.

Taking a breath of faith, Daria got up to the railing, near to the tear in the fence. Climbing through, she jumped into the lanes of traffic.

"Whoa, shit!" A bridge policeman ran over. His partner, who had been talking to someone, looked back and ran after him.

"What is it?" his partner asked him.

"I thought I just saw a jumper," he explained.

Both men looked up. All they saw were two white birds fluttering up into the bridgework. The policeman who thought he had seen a woman jumping saw two white doves. His partner saw two brown swallows. Another, a woman passing by who looked up while walking to see what the police were looking at, saw the most beautiful scarlet macaws. It had always been her greatest dream to see a macaw on the wing, but the Amazon was more than her lifetime away. But now, here were two, in the City, in the Winter. An avid bird watcher, she hurried home to make a note in her journal which, sadly, would be later contested by her fellow enthusiasts as being utterly impossible.

Daria was unused to flying on Earth. But once she got the hang of it, the experience was giddy. She beat her powerful wings and dodged through the cables. She was quickly as adept as any true angel. This new celestial form, being as it was, still attached to her human body, was more bulky and awkward than her true divine nature. Still, it gave her a sense of wonder and freedom to take to the skies. The part of her that was still Darlene revelled in this wonder of flight. It was a nearly clear Winter day. Wisps of high clouds beckoned to her to come fly beyond them and see firsthand the airy realms. Sadly, it was only a few more wing beats until she landed on the tower Rochel had directed her to.

Principality Rogette, the Archon of Brooklyn, wasn't what she had expected. Though she was in her winged form, the archon's clothes and her body offset any sense of divine majesty. Even her name was unseemly, being obviously her human name. She insisted on using it in the company of elohim, despite her rank. She was tall, and muscular, but her short blond hair was unkempt and wild as it peeked out from underneath a ratty holey baseball cap. She wore a bulky leather and cloth coat that she might have pulled from a trash bin. Both her cap and her jacket bore a stylized gothic 'D' emblem. Daria noted some blotchy yellow and brownish stains on the jacket.

"Principality Rogette. I am honoured to bask in your glory." Daria bowed.

"You were welcome, Sister." Rogette looked down to see what Daria was staring at.

From her high vantage while bowing, Daria looked down. She saw that there were many others down below her, more than she'd seen earlier. Some walked alongside men, others sat starting into the distance, perched impossibly on spans that could not have held their wait had they been human.

"Daresiel, what are you looking at?" the archon asked her. Her voice was deep, husky, and sonorous, like slow melody whose pattern creeps up on you before you know it, taking you by surprise.

"Those others down below. They are angels?"

"Grigori. They are the Watchers."

"There are so many of them."

"More than there are angels. Many who transgressed are imprisoned in Machon now. Still, a multitude serve on Earth, in banishment, keeping their quiet journals, making their reports."

"I never knew," Daria whispered. As there were no grigori, at least none walking freely, in Heaven, she had never seen one until that moment.

"It is said by some that their greatest sin was to love Man more than God. For this, their punishment is to be ever near that which they so loved, but as mere spirits, without form. They cannot help nor hinder, but can only watch. They are mere shadows, if even that."

"What an army they could be, if only..." Daria realized she was broaching a forbidden topic.

"Yes, perhaps they could have been. You can see them when in celestial form. Later you will sense them, even when in corporeal form. They are everywhere. But they take no part in the War. They are incapable of interfering and will take no notice of you in any case. Their sole obsession is with the humans. Pity them. Some even despair so greatly of their condition that they will forsake their divinity, willingly becoming remnants, so that they may once again walk amongst men."

"Willingly?" Daria could not believe this.

"It is rare, but it happens."

"I do pity them. But perhaps this punishment will be of some good service. It will remind the daemonae what will happen should any transgress." Daria looked up. Rogette did comment. She was staring at Daria intently, her expression inscrutable. For a moment, Daria thought she might have offended the archon.

"Daresiel, do you remember the details of your mission?"

"Clearly. I am to go to a place called California, to a city on the coast there called Santa Cruz. The Archon of Santa Cruz, Principality Valnum, has been recalled to answer charges. The situation, I understand, is very unhealthy. I am to prepare the way for a new archon to take control."

"I take it then your lord, Dominic, has already judged Valnum. Were this not so, you would have not been told that Valnum would not be returning."

"I don't understand. I was told that Principality Valnum exceeded his authority, to the point of making Santa Cruz a refuge for undesirables."

"He has been accused of this, true. But the Celestial Court has not rendered any decision. I wonder if your lord, instead, intends to use Valnum's recall to install someone of his own choosing."

Daria did not know what to say. Even if this were true, it was not for her to comment. And though she owed Principality Rogette her obedience while in her city, she found herself resenting the archon's insinuations about her master.

"Normally, a city the size of Santa Cruz would not be considered so important say, as a large city."

Rogette extended her arms to either side of the river, to indicate the cities of New York and Brooklyn.

"Santa Cruz, however, is a mission site, and as such, it once held a tether. It is the avowed goal of the Seraphic Council that all the mission tethers should be reinvigorated. This will put places like Santa Cruz once again at the forefront of the War."

"All the more reason to have a capable archon in place," Daria pointed out.

"Daresiel, here on Earth, even the highest princes of Heaven must bow to the will of an archon when dealing with affairs in the archon's domain, even if the archon oversees only a simple village of grass huts. Some archangels chafe at this."

Daria thought about this. There had been many grumblings in the celestial courts when she had been in Heaven. "The archangels rule the vastness of the Universe from above. Why shouldn't they also rule on Earth?"

"Because they do not, in fact, rule in Heaven. There is only one ruler of Heaven, as there is only one ruler of Earth. And we _all_ serve that ruler by not questioning Her will." Rogette's voice deepened and a chill wind came up, biting into Daria's skin.

"With all due respect, Principality Rogette, I still do not see where this is leading."

"I hear Dominic's words in your voice. Dominic feels that there might be some connection with Principality Valnum and his former master, Archangel Novalis. Your lord is very ambitious. It is almost certain that if you are successful in restoring what others deem to be proper order in Santa Cruz, especially if you are able to help discredit both Valnum and Novalis, that Dominic will use the influence he gains to see that you will take Valnum's place as archon."

"Me?" It was the last thing she wanted to hear. She had hoped, that after serving for a time in the daemonae, she would be allowed to return to her studies in Heaven. "If true, I will serve. What else can I do?"

"I understand. But understand this also, Daresiel, that as archon, you would no longer be a servitor of your lord. While on Earth, rather, he would serve you."

Daria had a hard time imagining herself ever giving directions to Dominic.

"If an archangel, through good intentions or ambition, places a puppet into the Principalities, that archangel then would wield undue influence, both in Heaven, and on Earth."

"Principality Rogette, I think you ascribe too much to my lord. He is zealous, yes. And he has made many enemies, enemies who perhaps even poisoned what you have heard of him. But he does not wield undue influence. True, he is conducting a tribunal, but one sanctioned and overseen by the Seraphic Council. He is but one of many judges in that service."

Rogette took off her tattered hat and regarded it.

"Dominic, some say that with Archangel Uriel's attention elsewhere, that Dominic desires leadership of the Council of the Celestial Court. Some say that this tribunal, and those same who point to Dominic as its leader, will be the means to this end, and possibly to other ends as well."

Daria said nothing. But she thought much. What if Dominic did, she decided, want to take Uriel's place, at least his place at the Court? Uriel had joined Gabriel in disaffection, pouting that Man had been placed above the elohim. If Uriel was not willing to do his job, there were others, perhaps ultimately more capable. Her lord, was ready and willing to step in and lead where leadership was needed. Rogette was a fool if she thought this little chat was going to turn her from Dominic.

Daria felt that there was something being left unsaid. She finally decided to just come out and ask. "Principality Rogette, is there a history between you and my lord?"

"Dominic and I served together, in a time before your making. We were among those who branded the Grigori, binding some in chains, sending others to their banishment."

"I am honoured to be in your presence, Principality. My lord speaks highly of this service and recounted it to me once."

"Did he? Did he also tell you that we slaughtered the children of the Grigori, the Nephilim and the Anakim?"

"Yes. This was necessary. The Nephilim and Anakim were terrible creatures, abominations to God and elohim alike. They had to be destroyed."

"Did they? I wonder. We didn't destroy all of them, of course. Some escaped, and mated. And sometimes, even through the generations, a _special_ child is born to Man. Do these also deserve that same fate?"

Daria thought uncomfortably about the manchild, Charlotte, at home. Fortunately, Charlotte had been born human. But even the thought that she might have been born tainted caused panic in Daria's human heart. Darlene was with her still, warring against her elohite nature. Less sure of her words for this subject, Daria nevertheless felt compelled to defend the orthodox viewpoint.

"The spawn of such unnatural progeny must be dealt with likewise. They are too powerful. Whenever the Enemy finds them first, they are made to serve him, with disastrous results for our kind. We in fact do these poor creatures a kindness to not let them fall into the Enemy's clutches."

"A kindness? Tell me, Seraph, have you ever been to Machon? Have you ever seen what waits them there?"

Daria shook her head. She had been to Machon. But she had only seen the fiery lights from the North when serving at the Celestial Court, this is from a great distance. But she had never been personal witness to what happened there.

"Then I suggest you reserve judgement until you have seen it for yourself. Maybe the fate we have chosen for the nephilim is not what they deserve. Perhaps they have a higher purpose that we have not ascertained and, perhaps, they were even sent to aid us."

"But God has spoken on this subject."

"You mean Metatron has spoken, on God's behalf. And even that Word is watered down by the Seraphic Council before it reaches our ears. Who is to say what God truly intended."

Blasphemy! Daria made a note to mention this conversation, in full detail, to her master. Perhaps Brooklyn too would require new leadership.

"You love Dominic very much. I can see that." Rogette stopped playing with her cap. "I want to tell you something, Daresiel. Dominic and I had a bit of a falling out in the past."

Daria had suspected this already, of course.

"Dominic thought I was too enamoured of a very recent human pastime, something they call baseball. Baseball is very popular among the elohim. We used to have a local team here. I was very proud of it. Dominic thought I was becoming too human in my passions, setting a bad example for the others. He used his influence to see that this one pastime was denied me. I think his intentions were good. I think he felt that I might better focus on what he determined were more proper duties. But he was wrong to interfere. And I was very angry. What he did not consider was that without the revenue and status from this team, my city suffered. I was very bitter of course, but I learned to let go. So, I hope you see what it is that I am saying to you."

"That archangels shouldn't interfere with the affairs of archons? Does that mean that archons have no accountability?"

"No, that's not what I'm saying." She put her cap back on. "I keep this cap and jacket as a reminder of what it costs us to keep a hold of things too dearly. See what it cost the Grigori, who maybe when everything is said, are only guilty of having loved too much."

Daria looked down at the grigori, dogging the footsteps of humans they watched. Occasionally, one would touch a human, who would walk on, unable to know or care that an eloha had taken interest in him.

"When your time comes, Seraph, remember to let go of that which you love. Otherwise, your love, innocent and pure, will drag you down, and others with you."

"Thank you for your advice, Principality Rogette," Daria said, trying to sound sincere.

Rogette just looked at her without comment.

**story by Solanio**


	3. Walk in the Clouds

_For anyone interested, there are some lovely artworks up on my web site for Shamayim, Raquia, and Shehaquim by (respectively) artists: Michele-lee Phelan, Selina Fenech, and Michel Lacombe. I know it's a maze (I like mazes and making things a bit hidden) - but it's in the Arcana section of Settings in the Angel area._

It was quiet. The beeping from the equipment and the soft padded footfalls of the nurses were all that human ears could perceive. But Daria perceived so much more. Two floors below, a baby was being born. It cried, a testimony to its existence, its own announcement of need and being to any that would hear. Three floors down, emergency doctors were wheeling a man to surgery. He was slipping from them. They hurried on out of practiced urgency, daring little hope. Daria could hear the wheels of the car. He was gone, like that; so much quieter than when he had come into the world.

Daria heard voices like a roar of an ocean, full of feelings of despair, joy, fatigue, hope, desperation, and promise. She closed Darlene's eyes, closed her own mind to all but the cares of those in that room. There were two there, two dear to one part of her, and as always, both a desperate enigma to that other. Her two halves, so different, she wove together like a badly stitched quilt, hoping to cover, comfort, and warm those chilled with dread and fear. Seraph eyes borrowed her human heart to feel, while human hands reached out with an elohite radiance, to bring peace and grace to mere humans, but humans of her heart.

Charlotte had fallen asleep, her face streaked where her mascara had run in black rivulets, dried testament to the flood of tears. Her soft breath shuddered as she dreamed. Her breathing, like her sleep was shallow. Only fatigue had finally let her drift off.

"Hello, darling."

Greg's voice was weak. Darlene looked over at her husband, reaching through the sidebars of the hospital bed to grasp his hand. His skin was yellowed and blotchy, only a gossamer of thin skin over his bones. She did not have to ask him if it hurt. She stood up and put her hand on his chest, taking his pain. His breathing eased, his starved lungs filled with sweet air, and he sighed. He sighed like a baby, content and tired. She kissed his forehead.

"Where's Charlotte?"

"She's there, sleeping. Do you want me to wake her?"

"No, let her sleep. How long have I been out?"

"A while."

"Good of you to stay," he smiled. Another wave of pain started but Daria took that too.

He relaxed. Looking up at her, he commented, "Hospital light suits you."

"Why do you say that?"

"The light. You look great. It's almost like you are the light."

He blinked and reached out for her. He touched a wing, brushing her feathers softly.

"Man, these are great drugs they give you. Not worth it, I know, but you'd never guess what I'm hallucinating now."

"I might," she smiled.

He stopped touching her wing. He took her hand and squeezed it as much as he could. There was no strength but he wanted her to feel him, feel that touch. His touch said, I can do this, I am still here. He did not speak for a long time.

"Have you thought of what you're going to do?" He swallowed. He was afraid. Tears welled up in his eyes.

"I thought I'd go to California. There's a place out there I've been meaning to visit."

"Yeah, I kind of suspected you might."

"Charlotte's going to college. There won't be anything to keep me."

"Who's out there? You never want to talk about it."

"I have family out there."

"Really? I thought all your family was in Florida. Live with a woman, and you think you know her," he chuckled. "What's it like out there, where your family lives?"

"The ocean is a lovely place. There are blues there you could never imagine. It's like the sky soaks into the water and stays there. It's the kind of place that takes your thoughts and reflects them back up to you, only with more clarity. The music of the waters is as pure as when they were first made."

She stroked his head. "I'm sorry you won't be there with me."

"Yeah, me too." Greg winked at her. He looked down towards his feet.

"Don't be frightened," she whispered, reading his thought.

"Can't help it. I know I've had all this time to get used to it. But, I just can't..."

"You want to know something?" Daria brushed the tears from his eyes, her fingers like feathers.

Greg looked into her eyes with those deep sunken sockets. A brightness emerged from the darkness that said nothing of fear. Sucking in a breath, he nodded.

"I know what's waiting for you."

"What, Heaven? You on about that again? You know I'm not religious, Darlene. I'd be a hypocrite now, if I was to start."

"I'm not either, Greg. You're a good man. That's all that counts in the end."

Darlene eased the sideguard down on her side. She slipped into bed with him effortlessly, pulling his head to rest on her chest. She whispered to him.

"First, you will go to Shamayim. You first come into Shamayim from Purgatory. You will only pass through that place. Then you will walk into the sky from Purgatory's mountain. You'll walk in the sky, like it was land. There in the clouds is a great tall gate, taller than any gate you've ever seen. There are no walls leading up to the gate, just the gate itself. You will come up to the gate that you will have to pass to enter. Shamayim is so beautiful, like all the beautiful places of this world together, green and verdant. For you, it will look like rolling hills of evergreen grass, dotted by blue lakes with white-capped snowy mountains. You will have to climb down those mountains after you pass through the gate, sure footed, no cold, seeing the land fall into place beneath you."

"Saint Peter?"

"No," she laughed. "An angel is there, reading a book. Cherubs guard the gate on either side. In Heaven, the cherubim appear in their true form, terrible winged beasts, great and mighty. But you will not fear them. In that book are the names of all the souls who will enter Heaven. If you lived a good life and are ready for your journey, your name is written into that book when your day is at hand. Yours is there."

"How do you know?"

"I've seen it there. I checked this morning for you. You are so lucky, Greg. Some souls have to come back to try again; some have to do penance in Purgatory. Some are sent to the Pit. You, you made it."

"Crock of bullshit, but I like to hear your voice." His protest was for show. He was listening intently to what she told him, his hopes rising with each word.

"They will check your name, and see that it's there. If it wasn't, no force known to Man or elohim would open that gate for you. With your name in the book though, you just open the gate and through you will go. An angel will appear to guide you through the next part of your journey."

Greg's eyes stared into the distance, trying to see past the acoustic tiles to this place that Daria placed in his mind.

"Next, you will to into Raquia. Raquia is a dark place where the souls of the wicked are taken. You will have to see it but you'll pass quickly through. Just remain with your guide. Then you are in Shehaqim. That's your home, Greg. You'll stay there, along with the souls of the saints and philosophers, family and friends. Paradise is in Shehaqim. And Paradise you bring with you. All your secret dreams, all your fancies of flight and comfort and discovery, all are there for you to discover and rediscover. And you can stay there as long as you want, until you are ready for the final journey."

"Sounds like this, um, what Shekim?"

"Shehaqim."

"Sounds good to me. Why would I want to leave?"

"Your soul will get tired of perfection. Your destiny lies in a place beyond the Heavens, maybe by God's side, maybe not. I don't know what happens to humans' souls once they decide to travel on. No elohim knows."

"But I get to stay in Paradise, as long as I want?"

"As long as you want."

"Sounds good. And I'll see you and Charlotte there someday?"

"Yes, if you haven't travelled on by then, I'll come to visit you once the War is over. Charlotte, her story is still being written. I can't see yet which way she will go. But I will help guide her, as much as I'm allowed."

Greg started to laugh. "Darlene, ole gal, you read some strange books." He laughed some more. He didn't seem to realize that he wasn't afraid any more. But his laughter turned to coughing. Daria massaged his chest and he was able to breathe again.

"Darlene, maybe you'd better wake Charlotte."

**story by Solanio**


	4. Ashes to Ashes

Over white sand, sheltered by rocky islets and strands of kelp, the water took on a greener hue, patches of verdant light that touched the minds of man and elohim alike. The water was a liquid gem, like translucent jade, like sunlight caught in green amber, like the waters of Paradise. In the shallows close to shore, the sea was transparent and peaceful. Where the seafloor dropped off, the water instantly turned a deep blue, marking deeper water. The deep was mysterious, turbulent, restless. The line between the two waters, so stark and apparent, it was like the boundary between lives, shared and distinct.

Charlotte was looking down at the ocean also, holding a porcelin urn against her stomach. She saw her mother looking at her and offered neither smile nor acknowledgement. Her eyes looked away from Daria, inland, to where the land was less easy than by the shore, Steep hills climbed to the mountain peaks behind, giving the impression that the mountains fell directly into the Pacific. In the distance, like a thin scar, parts of the coastal road could be seen, disappearing, only to reappear on the side of a more distant mountain spine.

Tired of waiting, Charlotte finally decided the time to let go was at hand. Daria softly sang a breeze and the wind that whipped Charlotte's long curly locks around her face also carried Greg's ashes seaward. Charlotte's hair hid her face for a moment, but when Daria's silent song ended, she could see the tears. She offered no tears of her own, instead looking back toward the ocean. Greg was already gone. This show of reverence for ashes was for Charlotte.

"You could have saved him."

Daria looked back at her. She was tempted to deny this accusation, but her seraphic nature did not sit with lies. Perhaps this was from when she had only been Darlene, but Daria greatly wished that Charlotte would not say anything further. It would be better if she just got in her car and left, on her way back East, to college and life beyond a shared past with someone who wasn't Daria.

"Why? How could you just let him die like that, knowing you could have saved him?"

Daria's human heart skipped a beat. She felt a strange chill coming over her. Be silent, she urged her daughter. If only she had the luxury of lying, she could deflect those words, make them die and never be heard again.

"Are you going to answer me?"

No, Daria thought, I will not answer you. Let this bitterness die here, or let Charlotte take it with her. As long as Charlotte was away, let her feel what she would. Let her utter her curses to the wind. Just let Daria not be the one to hear.

"What good is it being an angel, if you won't even help your own husband?"

A hand of cold stone gripped Daria's heart. She squeezed her eyes from the pain of that accusation and what it revealed. A single drop of water drifted down her craggy cheeks. The rest of her tears she bled within, trying to contain her pain and composure. No, she cried inside.

Daria stopped singing the clouds. They parted and a shaft of strong sunlight warmed them both. Daria's shadow was larger than it should have been. It was almost deformed, with two large humps from her folded wings plainly evident from anyone looking down at the uneven ground.

"Don't try to hide it. I know what you are. I saw when Daddy died. At first, I thought I was freaking crazy. But I see you still and now I understand. I think Daddy saw it too, at the end. And to think that you just stood there, letting him die, letting him suffer."

"I did not let him suffer. I took what pain I could. And you're wrong, I could do nothing. It is not allowed."

"Not allowed? Or did you just not want to?"

"Both." Daria agreed. "Yes, I could have saved him, but there are rules that my kind have to respect. We are not gods. There were once those of our kind who thought they were. They started by wanting to help, to change the fate of men. They started out with good intentions, but in the end, they fell to their own vanity."

"I can hear you, sometimes. Your lips don't move, but it sounds like you're singing. She walked over to her mother, still clutching the urn. "I wake up at night and it's like my senses are all mixed up. I hear colour, I touch sound, and I can taste what I see. And that sound I touch, it's all around me. I can see it now, like everything, that rock, that grass, the ocean, they're all vibrating, pulsing with - something."

"You were born before my Awakening. You shouldn't have been born at all. Your kind is not allowed."

"What do you mean?" Charlotte sensed a coldness in Daria. She sensed something else also. She looked around, but they were alone.

"You're a nephilim. If angels and humans mate, your kind are the result. The first nephilim were monsters. They devoured man and elohim alike."

Daria touched her daughter's cheek. Charlotte pulled her hand away and stood back.

"The chances of a nephilim from a pre-awakening are so small, I had hoped that I was wrong. But I saw signs in you, even as a child. And now, by your own words, you have revealed yourself."

"Why are you here?" Charlotte asked. "Why can I see you now, and not before?"

"I was sent here. You see me as I truly am because you have awakened. Your sorrow was the key to unlocking your inner self. Sometimes the Awakening happens later, sometimes not at all. It would have been better if you had never awakened. You could have lived your life in peace," Daria said, directing the words at Charlotte, but meaning them for herself.

Charlotte looked down at her own hands. "I'm not a monster," she declared. "Why did you marry father then, if you didn't want children? It seems I may be your mistake, but I really don't care. I'm glad to be alive and grateful for it. I only wished I had - what did you call it, awakening? I wouldn't have let Daddy die the way you did."

"You do not know the songs that could have saved him. Oh, you might have tried, I grant you. And the results would have been disastrous. Nephilim are very powerful. Your kind can walk through the Symphony and can use the powers of the elohim without consequence, without conscience. Your kind are the incestuous progeny of God's children that should have never been. You are an abomination."

Charlotte's expression couldn't have been more pained than if Daria had just walked over and slapped her in the face. She tried to stop them, but a stream of tears erupted. Her eyes swelled and she dropped the urn. It smashed into pieces.

The part of her that was still Darlene wanted to rush over and comfort her daughter. Darlene didn't see a nephilim, a monster, an embarrassment, a danger. She saw only her child, her little girl who was in pain and who needed her mother's arms for comfort.

"You called me an angel. I am not. I am a seraph, of the Choir of Seraphim. We are the highest of the choirs, who in Heaven, sing the Trisagion, and who were created to sit at God's feet. Ours is the burden of leadership. Ours is the gift of duty."

Charlotte stopped crying, or tried to. Her face continued to twitch, and pools of tears occasionally welled up again. She picked up the shards of the urn and cut her hand. It hurt like hell, but she stopped crying. The cut bled at first, but then the wound closed. There wasn't even a scar. Charlotte dropped the shard and gasped, examining her hand.

"Part of you is seraphim too. I want you to listen to me. You cannot remain here. You have to go away. I want you to think about that. I want you to be brave."

"Fine. I'll be at college. If angels, or seraphs, still care about their daughters, you can call me there." Charlotte took out the car keys. "You coming or not? I'll drop you off in Santa Cruz on the way to the airport."

Daria sang. Charlotte looked at her. Then, seeing that her mother was looking past her, she looked behind, toward the mountains. Two winged elohim swooped down from the clouds they were hiding behind. The looked liked birds from the distance. Others seeing them probably saw only that. But Charlotte saw them truly and her jaw dropped, from fear, yes, but mostly from wonder.

"They're so beautiful!" she gasped.

The elohim, clad in golden armour and wielding fierce broadswords whose edges danced with flame glided down and landed, golden sandals touching the grass in front of Charlotte. Somehow, the grass did not bend. The angels seemed to possess no weight. Yet, they were seven feet tall with bright burning eyes. Charlotte could not look into those eyes without feeling pain.

"These two cherubim have been guarding you ever since you were a little girl. They have been watching over you, making sure you did not fall into the hands of the Enemy. They will now take you when you are ready."

"Ready? Ready for what?"

The cherubs each grabbed one of Charlotte's arms. Their grip was like fire. They whirled her around to face Daria.

"What're you doing?" she protested. "Let go of me! Let me go!"

One of the angels addressed Daria. "We have guarded this child these many years. If she agrees not to use her powers, we can guard her until she dies a normal death. We are willing to do this."

Daria's response was scorching. "I will forget you even mentioned what you just said. There is a war. I cannot justify two cherubim guarding my daughter for the rest of her days. You are needed elsewhere. Charlotte has made her fate."

"Charlotte, look at me." Daria commanded. "Look at your mother."

Charlotte did not want to, but there was something very compelling about Daria's voice. She tried to fight it. But Daria continued to insist and Charlotte looked up at her."

"We cannot allow you to remain here on Earth. You have powers you don't even comprehend yet. The Enemy could use you to unmasque our kind, even before we have awakened. We cannot, dare not, help you use those powers. But the Fallen would only encourage you. They would torture you, twist you, until you were as wicked and lost as they are. Perhaps someday, you will understand that what I'm doing to you is a kindness."

"Mother? Help me?" Daria could taste her daughter's fear. It was more bitter than bile. It burned her like acid.

"Look at me." Daria commanded. "Be brave. The pain will pass. See me now. See me for what I truly am."

Daria transformed herself into her true form. Daresiel's first memory was being at God's feet, soaking up the divine radiance until it's burning glory fused herself into her own being.

Charlotte saw the seraph. It was like a glorious winged being, snake-like, with a multitude of eyes, wholly inhuman, alien, powerful, and radiant. That divine radiance, unshielded, burned her flesh like fire. Out of equal parts fear and reverence, Charlotte dropped to her knees, half pleading, half worshipping the thing before her. She screamed out in pain as her flesh soaked up the energy emanating from the seraph. The pain seemed without end, but when it did end, there was only an echo of terror and agony. Charlotte felt at ease, peaceful. She felt like, like she was floating. But she wasn't floating. The cherubim still held her firmly. She was still a prisoner.

She looked down. There was a body kneeling in front of her. She couldn't see its face, but the corpse was smoking. The cherubim let her go and she walked around and seeing the face, shuddered. She was looking at her own death, her own face, frozen in pain and terror, as if begging for release. Her eyes had been burned clean from the radiance mortal eyes could never perceive.

Daresiel, still in her daemonic form, that of a winged snake with many pairs of jewelled eyes, stood hovering nearby, its wings sending scented air blowing past Charlotte. Seeing her mother's true form neither hurt nor frightened Charlotte any longer.

"Am I dead?" she asked.

"Only your human half, my dear. Human bodies cannot withstand the true revelation of the elohim. Yours is more resistant. Only the fire of the seraphim is pure enough to purge a nephilim's body of its soul. Ours is the reflection of the purest divine radiance since we were the closest to God. Our true visage was never meant for mortal eyes. One of the consequences of your awakening is that you could be - taken - without consequence to the Symphony. This has always been a sign to us that your kind is not meant for Earth."

Charlotte wanted to weep for her life, for the experiences she would never have, love and family most of all. But she no longer had a body to bring tears. But she could feel pain and loss very well.

The cherubim, now revealed as terrible winged animals, flanked her on either side.

"Your protectors will take you now, to be with others of your kind."

"Am I going to Heaven?"

"Yes."

Daresiel thought of the flame pits of Machon. Knowing that her daughter might be sent there, Daresiel had gone back to Heaven, to see for herself. She had pitied the nephilim she saw there. To be put into the same torturous prisons of lava and fire as transgressing celestials, when the nephilim were guilty of nothing but having been born was a hard reality. The seraph bled brilliant tears of diamond fire from each of its eyes."

"Will I see Daddy again?"

"No, my dear," the winged snake spoke without moving its mouth. "That is not allowed. You don't belong to the destiny of Man. You will be taken to the Fifth Heaven of the Firmament. It is your destiny. Be brave and trust in the mercy of the One."

But was such mercy to be counted on? God had destroyed entire choirs for the slightest transgressions, and yet let others continue for even greater sins. Daria held onto her thoughts. Believe in the Rapture, she told herself. Ours is duty. We are nothing.

Charlotte screamed, crying for her mother as one of the huge cherubs grabbed her with its mouth, holding her firm in its jaws as it took wing. The other followed as an escort. They flew upward beyond the clouds, ultimately to disappear into the realms of the spirits.

Daria resumed her corporeal form. She called a wind, a terrible biting winter wind, not caring that it withered the grass with its unnatural cold. The deeper the icy cold bit into her material flesh, the more powerful she sang the wind. The pain it brought her was a poor castigation, as it could not banish the thoughts of her daughter screaming, while she did nothing. Darlene would not let Daresiel rest. Her daughter's body, charcoal and ash, eroded in the wind, flying toward the ocean in small particles, to rest alongside the ashes of her father in the calming blues and forgotten realms of the deep deep ocean.

In the end, only a pair of blackened keys, small bits of burnt jewelry and change were left. These Daria ground into the dirt until she couldn't see them anymore.

**story by Solanio**


End file.
